


Be Cool

by Ziven



Series: Be Cool/Stay Cool Universe (Yami x Mokuba) [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Reality|AR, Badass!Yami, Lemony, Limey, M/M, Mokuba with a nice ass, Nerdy Shirts, Post-Canon, The Pharaoh walks among us, Yaoi, older!Mokuba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-18
Updated: 2010-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:32:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziven/pseuds/Ziven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[AR, M/M, Lemony, Limey] When a figure from your past returns, hot and rugged and different than you remember, how exactly do you react? Slow that breathing, that raging heartbeat: Be. Cool. -Respectshipping, Yami/Mokuba-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mister Sexy at the Supermarket

****Be Cool** **

**Chapter One:**

It all began, coincidentally, at a grocery store. Yami had gone to pick up a few odds and ends for Sugoroku. A carton of milk, some chips and some paper towel—Gramps called him while he was there and added some wheat bread to the mix. It wasn't really what Yami would've preferred to do at the moment but whatever.

In the snack aisle is where he first saw him—a very handsome man heading down to the section where the dip was. Yami only saw him from behind but it appeared to be the man's best side if the spirit had a say in it. A head full of long black hair—unruly but kempt in a strange paradoxical way—cascaded down his back, letting up in enough time to give the ex-Pharaoh a nice view of his ass. He was clad in jeans that were sort of a rusted color but more importantly there was a little shape on the hips, enough to keep Yami guessing at what sort of surprise could be waiting for him in front. He also caught a glimpse of a motorcycle helmet held in the crook of the man's arm, which went perfectly with the leather jacket that he was wearing, brown and studded.

 _Fuck…_ Yami's mind was already beginning to run away from him, fantasies of what the guy looked like and how well the man would look being fucked raiding his head. Then a woman excused herself past him and Yami turned abruptly and headed in another direction before he could be seen. The _clack, clack_ of the man's shoes sounded against the tiled floor of the store and Yami could hear it even from the next aisle.

…he needed to get back to shopping, and so he did. It wasn't often that he spied a piece of ass like that in the neighborhood, though, and he found his ears straining for that _clack, clack_ sound while he picked up his items. Despite having heard it a few times he didn't meet the man again until he got into the checkout line. Tall 'n' Sexy was there in all of his backside glory, and Yami immediately jumped into his line even though there was an old woman and teen separating them. The entire time that he was in line he openly stared at the man who stood two people in front of him, much to the chagrin of some of the customers who had begun to gather behind him. Unfortunately, Yami didn't really give a rat's ass about them.

The sexy man paid for a single item—the dip he had been looking at in the snack aisle, and as he turned to leave Yami almost spoke up for his attention. Almost. Some weird sense of pride was telling him that it was silly to catch a man at the grocery store and he hadn't yet found an argument to counter his inner thoughts. So he silently urged the two people in line after him to hurry the fuck up. As he looked about agitatedly, he noticed that he was in the 10 items or less line and those two in front of him were together, actually; a grandmother and granddaughter couple. _Yes._ They only had three items together. They sexy man was exiting via the far end of the store so he had a little ways to walk, and Yami was still watching him intently. He had a cocky walk, the spirit noticed, cool and slow as though he had all the time in the world. Some girl a few people behind him giggled with a friend about him and it made Yami smile.

"I'm in a bit of a hurry…" he told the cashier, and he hastily removed his debit card as Sexilicious left the store, the _ping_ of the automatic doors following behind him. _Fuck!_ Yami thought, swiping his card and automatically canceling the transaction to Credit so that it would go faster. The machine asked for his signature, he desperately grabbed his grocery bag with his left and signed with the other. Then he was off, running to catch up.

Too bad he couldn't find Sexy Fuck in the parking lot. There were too many cars, too many people, and Yami couldn't spot those hips or that cocky-ass walk, those jeans nor the leather coat. Sighing, Yami took a deep breath, swore and cursed both his height and his shyness about speaking to a man in a grocery store. _You are a dumbass. A bitch. A pussy and an idiot,_ he told himself. So he began to walk back to the Kame Game Shop. He hadn't bothered to take Sugoroku's truck or the car he shared with Yuugi, since the store was close and he'd felt like walking at the time. He trudged forward to the corner of the parking lot to cross the street. He had the light so he began to cross with a few others.

 _Oh Ra! Yes! Thanks the Gods!_ Mister Sexy, riding his motorcycle, was first on the other side. The engine purred quietly as Yami began to stare even if he couldn't see the man's face. _Take off the helmet. Take off the helmet. Take off the fucking helmet._ But Yami finished crossing the street, the light turned and the Sexy Cyclist glanced in his direction once before speeding off. And Yami continued on. Kame Game shop was only two blocks away, so it would only take him a few minutes to get back. Five minutes to reflect on his cowardice.

Halfway up the second block, turning another corner and just a few buildings down from home, he heard the engine purr that he had just become acquainted with. That motorcycle was coming up behind him. Suddenly, he was defensive. Was he being followed? It was a paranoid question, but considering everything that he and Yuugi had gone through together, he had suffered far worse and therefore the idea was plausible. Of course, there was another part of him that hoped the sexy man just wanted a good fuck. That was also plausible. And possible. And the most desirable outcome. Regardless of his thoughts, however, Yami stiffened, his free hand toying with his Puzzle as he tried to gauge whether or not he would have to use it. The motorcycle hummed to a stop and Mister Sexy hopped off gingerly. Yami's body was tense even as he looked the man over. Then the helmet was off and the guy shook out his hair, and Yami could hardly believe it.

"Mokuba?" Yep, it had to be. Those chocolate eyes and his hair fit together now… _Fuck,_ Yami thought, drinking him in. _…Fuck…_ The unruly hair made sense now. As for the rest of it…

"You bet your ass," Mokuba answered, his voice a tad deeper than Yami remembered and everything that he'd imagined.

 _I'd bet mine if you were the prize…_ Yami thought. The last time he'd seen Mokuba, the boy had been sixteen and shipped off to some exchange program by Kaiba. Yuugi had been very upset about it, you see; Mokuba hadn't shown much of an interest in leaving.

"I saw you crossing the street from the store," he said. "You looked right at me but I don't think you could see through the visor. You on your way home? I'll walk you," he said, hopping back onto the bike. Then he turned it on and followed Yuugi at a very slow pace to the shop.

"When—when did you get back?" Yami said, still a bit flustered at finding out who the man was. _Jesus fucking Christ, he's grown._ And in more ways than one. _…Fuck._

"Just a few days ago, actually. I've got an apartment here for now. Seto's upset about it."

They were already in front of the game shop but Yami wasn't ready to go inside. Not by a mile. "Are you here for a visit?" he tried to make small talk, but it wasn't something that he was typically good at. He could fake it well enough, he guessed, but he was about two seconds away from just telling Mokuba to fucking bend over already.

"Nope. I'm back for good. I've spent enough time overseas. I like being home," Mokuba answered.

"You…look different," Yami said. It was the closest that he was going to get to his thoughts.

Mokuba laughed, loud and robust. "You think? It's been five years. I'd like to think I've grown." He took a moment to play with a strand of his hair. "Seto doesn't like it. Thinks I should cut it short."

Yami internally fumed. "I'd tell him to shut it," he said, trying not to sound too rude. "It's sexy."

Mokuba faltered a moment before speaking, and Yami knew that he'd been too forward, but he didn't really care at this point. He'd stifled himself and that would have to be good enough. "You don't look too bad yourself. How's Yuugi and Gramps?"

"Come in and see for yourself. Got time?"

Mokuba shrugged. "Anything to keep me from home. Seto wants me to come by tonight if I have time."

"Tell him you don't have time," Yami shot back, turning and already leading the way into the shop, leaving Mokuba to secure his bike. It didn't take long, and when the spirit had unlocked the side door to travel upstairs to the living quarters Mokuba had already caught up, helmet in hand.

Yuugi was surprised but recognized Mokuba immediately. Gramps didn't at first, but he didn't have time to voice that because Yuugi was all excited and jumpy. Yami put the groceries in the kitchen and Yuugi stopped to thank him before showering Mokuba with a million questions. Mokuba tried to answer them while Yami leaned back against a counter, watching. "Hm," Yami said, almost to himself, all sorts of shit swirling through his mind. Mostly about having a moment to fuck Mokuba privately, but his kept his face a mask of indifference. It wouldn't do getting a hard-on in the middle of the kitchen with everyone present. No thanks. He'd already been through that experience and he wouldn't be suffering through it again.

Mokuba was talking about being in America, and his voice changed completely. It was no longer casual—it was a bit more stuffy, business like, as though he was giving a presentation. He sounded more kind and considerate. A Kaiba working his magic, Yami supposed. He'd almost forgotten the getup Mokuba was wearing while he spoke of scholarships, sponsorships, jobs, colleges in general, and a bunch of other shit that Yami wasn't really interested in hearing. He guessed it was alright to hear about the brunette's business adventures, but being in the mood to fuck him at the moment, it just agitated him. It was only maybe ten minutes or so, however, and then he was done, talking about seeing Yami at the stop light. Yuugi seemed amazed at Mokuba's success and asked why he wasn't staying at Kaiba Mansion.

"That place makes me feel like I'm choking," Mokuba said, voice switching back to sound more like it had when he'd been speaking to Yami outside, and looked off to the side. "Can't stand that shit. Seto does nothing with the house." Gramps and Yuugi seemed surprised at Mokuba's sudden change of language. It was duly noted, because Mokuba said after a moment. "Alright, well it was nice seeing you, but…"

"Good seeing you, Mokuba," Yuugi said. "Feel free to come back and visit."

Yami certainly didn't miss the younger Kaiba's eyes glancing over to him for just a split second. "I might just do that."

 _I might just do you,_ Yami thought after him.

"See ya," he said, flashing a prize winning smile before he left.

{FIN chapter}


	2. Be Cool

**Be Cool**

**Chapter Two:**

The next time that Yami saw Mokuba, it was at a party. One that was thrown by Yuugi, of course, to commemorate his return. Yami was surprised to see everyone there, and he meant everyone. Even Otogi flew in from Cali to come and see Mokuba. Jounouchi, Anzu, and Honda. Yami still hung out with the old gang (sans Otogi) every once in a while, perhaps once a week during the summer when schedules were panning out and lined up conveniently.

This was a week after Yami had seen Mokuba at the store. Yuugi had offered for Yami to go with him early to set up the party, as it was going to be in Mokuba's own apartment. Seto had been invited, so Yami quickly deduced that the party's location was really a ploy to dig into Seto's ass as opposed to the best option. He snickered; Mokuba would do something like that. But Yami had refused the invitation. He would arrive somewhat on time like everyone else.

"What time?" he asked his other half.

"Eight, nine," Yuugi said, sounding the most relaxed he had in a while. "Whenever."

Yami smiled. "Oh, so you mean that this is going to be a _real_ party?" The time implied that there would be drinking, and any party where Yami could possibly be drunk at some point was a real party in his opinion. He was used to things like brunches and coffee houses. With Jou in law school and Anzu studying to be a nurse there wasn't much leeway for party nights like these. "What about Jounouchi and Anzu?" he added to that effect.

"They said it was fine. They don't have class tomorrow or tests next week. They're free today. Isn't that great?" Yuugi answered, beaming. Clearly he had missed everyone. "You're covering for me this afternoon, right?"

"No, Yuugi, I'm not. I'm going to let the shop go to hell and not care about whether or not you're helping to set up the party. Why are you going so early anyway? It's noon."

"I'm getting all the food and deserts and the drinks."

"Alcohol?"

"Yes, but that's not the only thing, Yami."

"Stop trying to make this into a fucking tea party."

"It's a welcome back party. You're going to want to do something more than drink. Besides, you know what drinking does to you when you haven't had anything to eat."

Yuugi had him there, so he didn't say anything other than, "Bye, Yuugi."

"See you at the party."

* * *

The Kame Game Shop closed at eight that evening, as it usually did during the week. Yami had wanted to close early, but it seemed that just to thwart him that day all the customers were trickling in until closing. He cursed up a storm in his head but made a concerted effort to be nice to the customers, as Gramps would never forgive him otherwise. None of them would have known that he was in a rush without asking. He really wanted to see everyone.

After closing the shop he realized with a pang that Yuugi had taken their car— _and this,_ he reminded himself, _is why you wanted your own._ He quickly skipped upstairs to the house, catching Sugoroku just as he was headed to his bedroom, and was able to get the truck. He'd fill it up with gas he promised, knowing that Gramps never saw him as a douche and he could have run out all of the gas and left it on the side of the road and he still wouldn't be upset. Sweet old man. Too trusting.

Although Mokuba's apartment wasn't the Kaiba Mansion, it wasn't too far from it. It was about a ten minute drive, faster if he had been speeding but Yami didn't feel like being a roadster that day. He discovered very quickly that by "apartment", Mokuba had been speaking about a flat, and it was much larger than Yami had imagined. He didn't know which floor Mokuba lived on, so he ended up calling Yuugi to come and get him at the door.

The place seemed rather lively already. He was the last one in, he realized, and was very much glomped by Otogi, who was dressed in slim T-shirt and some jeans, as per usual, although they were of higher quality than what he used to wear in school. Jou wore his usual green jacket, but underneath Yami could see a button up and some dressy slacks...classy. Anzu wore a nice red dress—red was always a color that she liked—and Honda was decked out in a T-shirt and jeans, as was Mokuba whose shirt said "Motherfucker" on the front. It made Yami laugh, but the sound was lost among everyone else's rabble.

"You're here!" Anzu cried out happily. Jou gave him two smacks on the back, and Yuugi smiled. Almost everyone had a beer in their hand already, and in Jounouchi's case, there was another empty bottle sitting near him. Yami was sure that it was his.

The one person who didn't look happy at all was Seto Kaiba, sitting in a chair in the den that was opposite of everyone else and somehow managing to look alone even though he was in a room full of people. _Fuck off,_ Yami thought without hesitation.

Mokuba's hand squeezed his shoulder for a moment, and then he shook out his black hair and pulled it into a ponytail. "Glad you could make it."

"Glad I'm here," Yami shot back, immediately giving Mokuba his attention before responding to everyone else.

"So, Mokuba," Seto began in a drawl, "is this it? Are you simply planning to drink and be merry with your friends all evening?"

"If you're asking if you can leave, Seto," Mokuba sighed, "the answer is yes. I'm not going to keep you here if you don't want to be. This is what I do. Get used to it." A pause. "Please."

Seto rose, and Yami knew that the CEO's decision had already been made. "I'll see you tomorrow morning in the office, Mokuba. Ten sharp, hangovers or not."

"Yes, yes, I know," Mokuba said back, his voice beginning to sound more professional like it had with Yuugi a week ago.

Yami couldn't help his smile as Seto Kaiba exited the door.

Jou couldn't, either. "Alright, let's have a real party, yeah? And by that I mean do nothing for about four hours. God, I miss you guys." He didn't sound at all like he'd just had two beers. Good old Jou.

"I need something in my hand," Yami said. "It's too empty."

"Go get that shit yourself. It's in the kitchen," Mokuba retorted, and Yuugi seemed almost stricken. It appeared that he wasn't used to Mokuba speaking like that. Yami liked it, actually; it was sexy, and just acknowledging that caused various kinky thoughts of Mokuba begin to float in his head.

So Yami ventured to the kitchen and came out with some Mike's Hard Lemonade. He didn't feel like beer tonight, and he wanted to remain sober enough to not hit on Mokuba by accident. He'd prefer to do it on purpose, if possible. And he wanted to remember doing it the next morning.

The flat looked nice. That den was a very decent size, with enough room to house all of the gang and then some. The kitchen had been much like the one he and Yuugi had at home, and were those two bedrooms that he spied while he was walking by? Good shit. "And he said he didn't want to live in the Mansion..." Yami muttered quietly as he emerged, taking a seat just as Mokuba came out of his room with a rolling stand and a second television.

"I don't," he retorted. Then he added, "I have excellent hearing." When he went back into his room again, he was carrying cords for a Playstation 3. "You guys can play the Xbox on that TV over there. It's already hooked up."

And that was how they spent the evening, playing games, chatting and drinking a bit, making jokes at each other and having a good time like they all used to. Anzu started asking logical questions, ones that made sense, the same ones that Yuugi had asked the week before about Mokuba's experience over in the states. "Their schooling is alright," Mokuba said, and Yami was delighted when he didn't hear that stiffness that dubbed him so obviously a Kaiba. "And I'm not famous there, which is the best thing. As soon as I was back in the country, I had people hounding me."

"I know exactly what you mean," Otogi said. "I had a picture taken of me in a cab on my way here, actually. It was very irritating. You'd think they'd forget after a few years..."

"I know!" Mokuba exclaimed.

"Fuck any foreign chicks?" Honda asked, in his usual obvious way.

"Honda!" Anzu exclaimed. "That's so rude!"

"A few, I guess," Mokuba said, pulling up a chair to join in what was quickly becoming another circle of conversation. "I don't really think of them as foreign, though. They're just girls." He shrugged. No one really addressed Anzu's outburst, because Honda was clearly a bit tipsy and it was only going to get worse from there. "It's not like I was there just to bang chicks." He was answering the question a bit too seriously now, trying to shift back to the mood that Anzu had set with her original questions. "I mean, it was a cool experience, and it was definitely great getting to explore some things myself without Seto looming over me the way that he is now, but...I missed home. I didn't really want to leave in the first place. I was looking forward to seein' you all graduate from college and shit. I mean, I made friends, but damn...I was a child prodigy, practically. I was a lot younger than everyone else in my class. Took me a long time to become comfortable with being treated that way. And you can't drink there until you're twenty-one. That sucks."

Yami nodded, finishing his third bottle of hard lemonade. He felt a little lightheaded, but nothing really yet. He wasn't trying to get drunk.

"You look really different," Anzu said. "Like...really different."

Mokuba waved her away. "I'm just taller, is all. And I've got the bike now. Of course, Seto doesn't like that."

"I told you earlier," Yami said, "Tell him to shove it."

"I'm trying not to do that," Mokuba said. "He's my only family after all, and my future. I start working at Kaiba Corp in the next month. I'm going to be Seto's right hand man. I forget what position because I haven't been briefed on it yet. That's why he wants to see me tomorrow."

"Good career," Jou said. He belched after that, laughing while he covered his mouth.

"Maybe," Mokuba countered, "but boring ass work. I don't want to be enslaved to the company for the rest of my life like my brother. I like KaibaCorp, but I don't want to live like him: pulling all-nighters just to finish one project and say it's finished, not having time for friends or family or anything else. That shit sucks. I'd die if I had to live like that." Jou nodded, understanding. "I tried applying for some less stressful jobs, and I've gotten most if not all of them—I don't want to take them, though, because—"

"They saw your name on the application," Otogi said, "and that's all they saw."

Honda was dying on his side of the circle. "I say fuck it all," he said, voice slurred because of all the beer, "and let's watch a movie."

Mokuba laughed. "Good idea. What do you guys want to watch?"

"Fuckitall!" Honda shouted again, giggling like a girl after. Everyone laughed, and Mokuba put some random disk into his PS3 and let it play. The movie ended up being an American flick, some comedy with slapstick humor. Anzu climbed into Otogi's lap as he sat on the carpeted floor and leaned back on him, buzzed and sleepy, and he didn't seem to mind at all. Jou was in one of the plushy chairs, and Yuugi in the other; Honda was sprawled out on the floor on the side of him, Mokuba in a lawn chair that he'd brought from somewhere, and Yami was seated on the floor as well.

"You all can spend the night here, if you want," Mokuba offered. "Just know that you'll have to sleep on blankets. The guest room is clear, though. Fight for it if you don't want blankets. I have a lot though, and a couple sleeping bags but not enough for everyone." And with that he went ahead and retrieved said blankets. Jou declined staying at first, but Anzu reminded him of how often it was that everyone got together, and he changed his mind.

Yuugi drifted off while he was watching the movie, a smile on the face from when he'd been laughing at it. Anzu had fallen asleep leaning back on Otogi, but the dice master had grabbed a sleeping bag and offered it to her. She took the offer, of course, but even in the sleeping bag she snuggled up to Otogi, sighing about having to skip class tomorrow or something of the like. Honda was out like a light, but Jou still seemed awake. Yami was beginning to get sleepy, seduced by his drinks as well as the lighting and his own internal clock. Mokuba was wide awake, as though he wouldn't be going to sleep for hours, intently watching the movie, chuckling quietly at scenes he thought was funny. Had Jou been asleep, Yami probably would have made a move for him.

Instead, the spirit occupied himself by doing something constructive—clean up. Yuugi had bought some pizza for dinner, but most of the work had gone into making breakfast for the next morning. Yuugi had planned ahead and it was nice to know that there was still a part of his hikari that didn't mind getting fucked up in the evening as long as he could wake up and not have to make breakfast. The thought made Yami smile to himself as he picked up his few bottles and headed over to the kitchen. He felt eyes on him, wondering what he was doing. It was hard to see in the dark, and so he was glad that the light traveled away from the kitchen and that the movie was playing. He didn't want to step on anyone.

"Want these?" he asked Mokuba quietly; some people actually cashed them in.

Mokuba seemed to think for a moment. "...yes. Leave them by the sink."

And so Yami did, making a return trip to pick up Jounouchi's bottles. The blond's hand slid over one that was half full. "I want this one." Then he smiled a cheesy grin. "Thanks, Yami." Yami smiled back.

On the return trip, Yami found himself followed into the kitchen by Mokuba, who had grabbed most, but not all of Honda's beer bottles; he'd drank the most out of them all. Yami shook his head. Yuugi must have bought two cases of the stuff, and then the hard lemonade for him and Anzu. He hoped that they'd be polite enough to reimburse him, at least.

His thoughts were enough to keep his mind off of Mokuba being alone with him in the same room until he heard the faint _clink_ of the bottles being sat down on the counter. Yami sighed a little to help regulate his breathing, his heart rate; he didn't want to be caught being flustered by Mokuba. Instead, he tried to make small talk. "Thanks for having us over."

Mokuba stood up straight, towering over Yami. He was a bit shorter than Kaiba, thank the gods, but that haughty look in his eye really reminded Yami of his brother. Mokuba swept fingers through the bangs of his hair. "Is that what you really wanted to say?"

Yami's left eyebrow rose in a quirk. "Excuse me?" he wondered if he could pull the wool over Mokuba's eyes, so to speak; just to see if he was capable of doing it, even though all the he wanted to do was to actually tell Mokuba what he really wanted to say, and do. The chase was much more fun.

But the younger brother stood his ground. "You heard me. Was that really what you wanted to say?" He leaned his left elbow on the counter, facing Yami with a sporting look on his face.

"Would you prefer me not say anything about your hospitality?" Yami retorted.

"I'd prefer you just spit it out." His expression channeled itself into a single smirk, and he stood up, taking a step closer. "I saw you looking at me..."

Yami snorted. "Oh, did you?" he said, voice as cocky as Mokuba's walk; he didn't move. "Just so happens that you're rather good to look at. Is there a problem?"

Mokuba laughed, sliding even closer to Yami, until there were only a few inches between them. "I'm not a child, Yami. You want me."

Yami smiled, a wicked smile. Then he slowly, very slowly, quoted Mokuba's words from earlier on in the week. "You. Bet. Your. _Ass_."

Mokuba leaned in even closer, an arm extending to trap Yami between an impending wall and himself, lips hovering just over Yami's, hair almost keeping his eyes from view of the shorter man. This time, Mokuba's voice was a husky whisper, more breath and bass than actual sound. "Gladly."

Yami swallowed thickly, feeling his Adam's apple bounce up and down in his throat. His heart rate was desperately trying to climb up, but he wouldn't let Mokuba affect him like that. He could feel the tension growing between the two of them, but he wanted to make Mokuba break, to lean in first, to capture his lips, to be the one to admit that he couldn't reign himself in. "..." For a moment, his mind fumbled for a response. He knew that if he'd lost in this silly game and couldn't think of anything to say, he'd be forced to give in. It was what he wanted in the end, but he would have to deny himself just a little while longer. Suddenly, everything snapped together and he had it. "So I'm not the only one," he breathed, his voice even more delicate than Mokuba's. The younger Kaiba's arm moved from the wall and his hand settled on Yami's hip. But Yami kept his composure. He waited for a response.

It was then that their lips crashed together. Mokuba's embrace was slow but intense; his arms tightened around Yami, the one on his hip and the other around his back, pushing him against the wall. There were no pleasantries, no etiquette. Just the primal sensation of one mouth on another, hot and shallow breaths filling up what space dared come between them. Yami finally began to lean closer, lips closing over Mokuba's, their tongues mixing. It was all Yami could do to keep from making a sound, especially with Mokuba's fingers delicately tracing his side like that. Yami shook loose of the hand behind his back, slipping his own in under Mokuba's to roughly pull him closer. His eyes fluttered open in just enough time to see Mokuba's close, and the brunette let out a small "Hn." Yami made sure to thoroughly ravage his mouth before easing up; he'd waited long enough, and it had been worth it. Every fucking second.

When Mokuba's kisses began to purposefully slow themselves, Yami began to suck on his tongue softly. And when Mokuba finally pulled away after what had seemed like an eternity, his lips were swollen and there was a hungry look in his eyes made more intense by his long bangs of hair. Mokuba's gaze seemed to be appraising Yami's for something; whether he found it the Pharaoh did not know.

After a moment of both of them panting, Yami deliberately licked his lips. He was hungry for more, honestly, but he wasn't going to let Mokuba know that if he could manage it. Mokuba ran his hands through his hair, shook it out and said, "Damn it, Yami-" he rolled his eyes, glancing back into the den for a moment. Yami smiled the same feral smile from before, his intentions unmasked. Mokuba smiled, too, hands playing in his rock-star styled hair. "Yami," he breathed. "Get the fuck out of my kitchen."

{FIN chapter}


	3. 01100110 01110101 01100011 01101011

**Be Cool**

**Chapter Three**

When they all awoke that morning, Mokuba was gone and there was a note on the fridge detailing that they were welcome to stay as long as they wanted. Yami and the remaining guests had a quiet breakfast at about ten thirty, with everyone getting the sleepy out of their system. Yuugi was the only one with a chipper attitude—Yami certainly wasn't used to getting up early. If anything he cursed not being able to see Mokuba on his way out. After that confrontation with him the day before, he wouldn't have minded giving—or receiving—a pick-me-up as Mokuba was leaving. Things didn't happen that way, however, so Yami enjoyed his pancakes and sausages just like everyone else.

Despite Mokuba's invitation, everyone else began to trickle out early; although they didn't have class that morning, Jou and Anzu wanted to use the time at home to study, and Honda was already late for work. When the three of them left, Otogi called and arranged an earlier flight back to California and he split, too. They were kind enough to drop Yuugi some money for the breakfast and even stayed long enough to help wash dishes and clean Mokuba's place with them, which Yami appreciated. It was nice to know that his friends weren't dicks. Soon enough, the flat was empty, just Yami and Yuugi there, but it was noon by the time everyone else had gone, and even the two of them needed to be getting back to the Game Shop.

"I don't want to leave Mokuba's apartment unattended," Yuugi said, his voice already sounding worried. "He didn't leave a key, and I don't feel comfortable leaving the house knowing that his door is wide open..."

Yami knew what was coming. "Fine, Yuugi; I'll go cover for you at the shop when Gramps ends his shift."

Yuugi shook his head. "You covered for me yesterday for the party. It's fine. I'll go."

Yami considered his options. Staying there in Mokuba's place had seemed like a good idea at first, but he stuck out his tongue, both to the notion and to Yuugi. He didn't want to be stuck at Mokuba's place like a little bitch waiting to be fed by its Master. He'd get another chance with Mokuba if it was that important. "Nah. It's fine. I've had enough of this dump."

Yuugi rolled his eyes. "Don't be so rude. Mokuba was very nice to us yesterday."

"Of course," Yami answered coolly, with a laugh. "I'm just exaggerating, Yuugi. I'll see you whenever you get back."

"Ah..." Yuugi said, fishing in his pocket. "Here, take the car."

Yami shook his head. "I got the truck. You forgot about that yesterday."

Yuugi giggled, like the idea of Yami possibly being stranded without a ride yesterday was a joke. "I'm sorry." Yami rolled his eyes this time, turned on his heel and left, closing the door behind him.

Being home and taking over for Gramps was nothing new, but it seemed to take forever for Yuugi to get back. Almost as though to spite him, the day was a slow one at the shop, to the point where Sugoroku didn't mind working the counter for another hour or so after Yami had gotten home. So he had returned for nothing. He supposed it was nice to have the time, though. He went ahead and took a shower and put on some fresh clothes—today, black jeans and a T-shirt that said ("Fuck you" in binary) with smaller text underneath that detailed "...if you can read this." A gift from Yuugi for one of his birthdays, and it was actually his favorite shirt. He even chuckled putting it on. After that, he just lounged about until about two thirty, when Sugoroku entered saying that he was a bit tired, he was going to take a nap and that he wanted Yami to mind the store.

He'd been doing nothing for about fifteen minutes when he heard a car pulling up outside. Finally, Yuugi was back. It wasn't as though Yami had anything better to do that day, but it was nice having the company to talk to. Gramps didn't do much but sleep these days and watch his "shows", so there wasn't much to dig up there... The familiar _tinkle_ of the door opening sounded and Yami looked up in just enough time to see that Yuugi was already in the store and that Mokuba was stepping in behind him.

"Yami," Yuugi said, "that's not a work appropriate shirt..."

"It's brilliant," Mokuba said, smiling brightly. Of course a Kaiba would be fluent in binary; he'd recognized the language on sight, which was indeed a bit scary. On the other hand, the younger Kaiba wasn't quite looking himself with his own wardrobe. Mokuba had his hair back in a ponytail, like he had at the party but the strands were slick, like he'd pressed his hair before leaving that morning. And he was wearing a suit. Not bad, Yami thought, but he liked the jeans and the leather jacket better.

"Has the shop been slow all day?" Yuugi asked, looking around as though he was expecting to see a customer trudge in.

"Yep, pretty much, but we should get busy soon. School's out for the kids in an hour or so," Yami answered.

Mokuba removed the band from his hair and let it fall straight; Yami's eyes glided over him for a moment, slowly, like a tongue over a popsicle. The straight hair looked better down, and it matched his suit that way. He had been about to say that Mokuba looked like shit, but now that was the farthest thing on his mind to say. His thoughts were blank because there were so many different ideas for commentary trying to cram their way into his brain at the same time. "..."

Yuugi had turned away from him to face the door, and he stretched. "Well, I'm back, so I can take over the store if you want. Mokuba said he'd had nothing to do, so I brought him along. I hope you don't mind; I didn't ask if you had any plans."

Mokuba sauntered up to the counter, leaning over it dramatically, outstretching a hand to lift Yami's chin. To the Pharaoh's surprise, his mouth closed with a snap that he swore should have been audible. "You're slipping," Mokuba whispered, just the right touch of that delicious bass in his voice as he gloated. "Am I that impressive?"

Yami had been caught off guard. He'd lost that round, and he had been planning to allow himself to blush in some offhanded perversion of shame—until he saw Yuugi turn around to face them again. Mokuba's hand dropped quickly and began to drum on the glass as Yuugi asked, "What are you two doing? Mokuba, are you teasing Yami?"

"Yes," Mokuba said without missing a beat, standing up and straightening his suit jacket. "I was just saying that he _looks_ like a game store clerk. Boring and impossibly geeky."

Yami scowled. Yuugi flushed, and he smiled sheepishly, replying, "I'm a geek! There's nothing wrong with that...and Mokuba, don't lean on the counter..."

"Ah, okay; sorry," Mokuba responded, taking a step back. "And you're right; there is nothin' wrong with that. Yami likes to pretend to be tough, though, so I was just making fun of him."

Yami tried to force his expression back into one of impassiveness, but he was sure that his agitation was showing on the surface. Did he look like he was Mokuba's bitch? "Well, you look like your brother. 'Nough said," he retorted.

Mokuba raised his eyebrows. "Good comeback. How long did that take you? Two minutes? I've been hearing that all my life; you'll have to do a bit better. Besides, looking like Seto's not that bad. He's doing better than you, binary boy."

Yami opened his mouth to say something inherently evil, but Yuugi waved his hands in the air, capturing their attention. "Hey, time out! What the hell is going on between you two?"

Mokuba flashed his winning smile. "I was just kidding..." Yami saw the small bit of remorse in Mokuba's face when his smile faltered, but Yami knew it was manufactured. The Pharaoh rolled his eyes; they hadn't been serious and Yuugi was being too sensitive.

"Here, let me take the counter," Yuugi said, entering through the side partition and pushing Yami out to where he had been. "You clearly need to go and chill in the house. If I hear fussing or fighting, I'm going to go get a water bottle and spray you. That's what they do to scrapping cats, you know."

Mokuba made a face. "Not the water! I'll melt!"

Yami raised his left eyebrow. That joke went over his head. Yuugi's expression was blank, so apparently he had missed it, too.

"Wizard of Oz reference," Mokuba said. "It's an American thing; sorry."

"Is that a movie?" Yuugi asked.

"And a play, and there are books based on it, too," Mokuba said.

Yami saw Yuugi opening his mouth to ask another question or make another comment, and there was that curious light in his eyes that told him that there were many more comments and questions aside from the one that he was trying to make. Yami tugged on Mokuba's arm, pulling him away and cutting Yuugi off before he could start a whole new educational conversation. "We're going, Yuugi. You can ask questions later."

"Aww..." Yuugi's voice echoed behind them as they entered the staircase that would take them up to the house. He let go of Mokuba's arm as soon as the door closed, leading the way through the dark stairway to their home.

"Well, that was rude," Mokuba said, his voice mocking. "I actually wouldn't have minded having _that_ conversation. I liked Wizard of Oz."

Yami rolled his eyes. "Be quiet. Come on," he said.

Mokuba put a surprisingly light hand on his shoulder. "...so you're really going to just take me upstairs and do nothing with me all day?" his other hand was playing in his own hair, as usual.

Yami smirked; Mokuba couldn't wait, could he? "I thought I was a geek?"

"You have 'Fuck You' written on your shirt in binary," Mokuba parried. "What else am I supposed to conclude?"

"Ah, but it only took you one second to read it," Yami replied.

"...Mn. Touché," Mokuba said, voice trailing off. Yami began his trek up the stairs, and the brunette added, "You're really serious about going upstairs?"

"Yuugi's in the shop. What else would you suggest?"

"That we hightail it out of here and go somewhere else?" Mokuba said.

"Like where?"

"Anywhere. You can ride on my bike with me."

Yami thought about it for a moment. "...back to your place?"

"Of course not," Mokuba said. "That's lame. We'll find something to do."

"...alright," Yami said, and he turned to open the door again. Before Yuugi could say something, he interjected, "Sorry. We decided that we'd go out instead."

Yuugi groaned. "I want to go..."

"Too bad you're stuck with the shop, then," Yami replied.

"You're not missing anything," Mokuba said, smooth as silk. "We'll probably just walk around and see how many people actually get the message on Yami's shirt."

"You're hopeless, Mokuba," Yuugi said, but Yami certainly hoped that wasn't what they were going to end up doing.

Outside, Yami surveyed Mokuba's bike, a mode of transportation that he hadn't been on in a long time. Honda had been the one to teach him how to ride, being a mechanic and all, but it was only to do in his spare time, nothing serious. He wondered if he would be able to—

"You're not touching my bike," Mokuba said, his voice as steel. "I'll have you know that LaShonda is very picky about who gets to drive her."

Yami tried not to laugh, as he couldn't tell whether or not Mokuba was serious. "LaShonda?" he asked.

"I didn't name her, but I love her," Mokuba said, throwing a leg over "her" to situate himself in the front portion of the seat. There was enough room for Yami in the back, but he wasn't sure if he should even approach the damned thing after the intervention that the younger Kaiba had just made. "She's the only woman I'm interested in riding at the moment." He smiled.

Yami did laugh this time, and he got on. Mokuba handed him the helmet, the kindest gesture that he'd made all day, and off they drove. He wasn't really sure where they were going to go in broad daylight in the afternoon; they were just wasting time, he and Mokuba. At the first red light they encountered Mokuba tied his hair up, and doing so gave Yami the urge to pull it, just to annoy him—which led to thoughts of pulling Mokuba's hair in ways that would be more sexy and less annoying; and by the time they'd gotten to their destination Yami's mind had already gone through several thoughts, involving Mokuba on his back, on his stomach, in a chair and bent over a desk...

"We're here, you know," Mokuba said, making a right from the street into a parking lot where he paid about 600 yen.

"What's this?" Yami asked. It looked like a hotel if the building that was very visible on the right was any indication.

" 'S a hangout spot," Mokuba said. "Alternative. I found out about it the other day and I wanted to check it out. Objections?" There was no witty retort this time; Yami simply shook his head.

{FIN chapter}


	4. You've Done This Before, Haven't You?

**Be Cool**

**Chapter Four**

Yami wasn't gonna lie; the boy was drunk off his ass. A pitcher of beer, two Gin & Tonics, and a humble bottle of sake (mostly finished but not quite). It was quite a lot, actually; Yami had settled for a Cranberry Vodka, and despite being in this joint for more than two hours he was only on his second glass. He was a slow drinker, and Mokuba had already called him a pussy (several times) but at least he wasn't sloppy drunk.

The jazz club was cool. They didn't play only jazz, though—there was some easy listening and slow R&B mixed into the track listing that was being whispered from the speakers in the place. Not that Yami minded. He and Mokuba had actually asked him a few questions about life since he'd left and Yami had pretty much described the comfortable rut that his life had fallen into. He hadn't been born in this time, as Mokuba already knew from his previous excursions with Yuugi, and he had no education here—no base to build on for employment. Not that it bothered him. He was very much a fan of the Game Shop and he looked forward to taking it over one day with Yuugi so that the old man could finally enjoy his retirement. This was all before Mokuba had even finished half of his pitcher of beer—the boy was a pretty avid listener for all the talking he did. They'd gone on for quite a bit about both of their lives before Mokuba started being...drunk.

Yami wasn't really the romancing type, but Mokuba hadn't given him much of a choice. The fact of the matter was that Yami really had the hots for Mokuba, and the brunette was playing hard to get. Even when the boy was drunk—hopping from subject to subject of conversation—he was delightful, entertaining and funny. It had been a while since Yami had actually been infatuated with someone and Ra knew that at first all Yami had really seen was that tight ass of his at the grocery store, but—

Ra be damned. He _was_ being a pussy. He took an extra gulp of his vodka to ebb his self—disappointment away.

By then, drunk as hell, Mokuba was going on about how glad he was to have some regular drinking friends. "I had so much fun with you guys last night," he boomed. The patrons in the club just laughed at him. It was only a quarter til seven—there was no reason for him to be drunk already. Yami agreed with them. "Mokuba, you're fucking drunk," he chuckled. Nearing the bottom of his second glass, he was a bit buzzed himself, actually.

"I know!" Mokuba said, as though he was amazed at himself. He was leaning so far over the table that Yami could have kissed him; not that he was going to. He had no problem taking advantage of a drunk Mokuba, but not in the middle of the club. He was most definitely an asshole, but not stupid. Public decency and all that.

"Mokuba," Yami offered, "Why don't we just get you home?"

Suddenly serious, Mokuba said, "No no no no...no. They don't have—" he burped. "—excuse me. They don't have overnight fucking parking here. What time is it?"

"Almost seven."

"'Kay," Mokuba answered. He settled down in his chair. "...Fuck," he said. "Okay. Just...fucking...don't give me any more booze. I'll fucking sober up in a couple hours and we can get the fuck out of here."

Yami laughed out right. "How many times are you going to say 'fuck,' Mokuba?"

Mokuba's eyes were wide with bewilderment as he answered, "...I don't even fucking know."

Yami couldn't help his laughter. Maybe it was the vodka, but he was feeling pretty good, and Mokuba was just amusing at this point. "You're so fucked up."

"I know. I'm sorry." Mokuba said. He paused, and then said, "Shit. I have to take a piss. I'll be back."

Yami stood with him; he knew how degenerated drunken people's relationships were with the action of walking. If Yami usually needed help doing it when he was off the charts, certainly Mokuba wouldn't mind. "I got it," Mokuba said, like every other intoxicated person before him. Surprisingly, he did have it, making his way to the bathroom in an off—shooting hallway with relative ease.

There was seating on the wall opposite of the bathroom entrances. A plushy couch sat with two matching chairs on each side. Yami sat on the couch impatiently while Mokuba went in, half expecting to hear some wretching or a call for Yami to hold his hair while he did so. He chuckled at the thought, leaning back on the couch and stretching his arms out. He wished that he'd brought his drink. When Mokuba emerged, wiping his hands on his slacks to dry them, he looked up at Yami and smiled.

"I wish I had gone home to change first," he said. "I look like shit in this suit."

"Very fitting, considering how shitfaced you are."

"Ha! Funny," Mokuba said sardonically, then hiccuped. "Look," he added, "I didn't just bring you in here to embarrass you." While he spoke, he shrugged off his suit jacket.

"I never said you did." Far worse things than a drunk friend had happened to Yami.

"Just let me fucking account for myself _bitch_ I know I'm drunk."

Yami chukled. "Alright," he said, shrugging.

Mokuba was unbuttoning his undershirt now. "It's hot," he said, "and I'm going to give you a lap dance."

"Oh, you really are drunk."

"Do you want one or not?"

Before Yami could form a witty answer, two women—a blond and a brunette—entered the hallway, both dressed rather casually. They both stopped and stared at the shirtless Mokuba as though they weren't sure whether to be disgusted or turned on.

They seemed to not know what to say, so Yami filled in the silence for them. "He's extremely drunk."

Mokuba was gaping for words as well; it seemed that their appearance had caught him off guard. In the end they giggled, the blond responding to Yami with, "I bet!" before they rushed into their bathroom.

"They know I'm hot," Mokuba said after them.

Yami rolled his eyes. "You're out of control." He moved to stand. "You have to get out of here. Maybe going outside will cool you off."

Mokuba pushed him back down to the couch. "Wait. Are you saying that you _don't_ want a lap dance?"

"To jazz music?"

"Excuse me?"

"To jazz music," Yami repeated. "They only play jazz here."

"Don't be concerned about that. Here—" Fishing a bit clumsily into his back pocket, he pulled out his phone. "It has a music player function." He pressed a few buttons, navigating to it before presenting it to Yami. "Go ahead. Choose something."

"You're really going to do it."

"I said I was going to. Why not?"

"Because we're in a jazz club."

"Just choose something already."

Yami was totally unfamiliar with the slew of American artists that were on the device. However, he wanted to choose something that had a beat, he supposed; somehow he didn't see Mokuba taking no for an answer and he didn't want to cause a scene. So he did the next best thing—he went to the industrial section, which Mokuba had clearly labeled—of course a Kaiba would actually organize his music by genre—and put the thing on random. If he was really honest with himself, he did want to see Mokuba do something mildly embarrassing at this point; ever since his return he'd walked around like he owned the place—telling Yami to get the fuck out of his kitchen? Yeah, really funny. They'd see who was funny when he recounted this to Mokuba the next morning...

"There. I chose something. Happy?" Yami quipped. The song that was playing had a slow, grinding base that was slightly intriguing; he would have to ask later who this actually was.

There was no questioning Mokuba's attractiveness or the fact that the boy had apparently done this before. He began with his hips—something that Yami could testify that most men were afraid of learning to use—which was mildly entertaining. Yami was tempted to ask if Mokuba had worked as a prostitute in New York, just to fuck with him, but he couldn't really bring himself to ruin the moment.

Although it seemed like a silly idea at first, watching Mokuba dance was actually quite a turn on. His hips had only been a precursor to a variety of other movements, dips and rolls, sways and reaches—all of which were accentuated by his lengthy hair, straight and sleek and sexy, moving right along with him. The low grumble in the song conjoined with a pounding beat, all blaring from a phone that should not have been able to replicate a song like that with such vibrant rhythm. Mokuba was all over the place, in a way—his steps seeming simultaneously random and deliberate, hands sliding up Yami's chest in harmony with a well—timed dip, the outline of his body contorting in ways that only made Yami think of other things...

Yami had gotten better lap dances before, but Mokuba was doing quite well for a drunk. The song's rhythm slid into a pulse, and Mokuba straddled his hips on the couch, Yami shifting wordlessly to accommodate him before he could actually think about what he was doing. Mokuba's hips were still moving, grinding down on his loins and Yami did _not_ think that it was a good idea to start something like this _now_ when Mokuba was leaning close and Yami could see from the brunette's pout of concentration that he was indeed trying to keep himself focused on what he was doing, lips grazing his neck; Yami could _feel_ Mokuba though his pants—they were so tight and _ohgodwhycan'twefucknow_?

Now their foreheads were touching, Mokuba's hips moving in tandem with the song against the slighter man's body, and his hair had fallen around them like a curtain as his lips passed over Yami's. He was being teased, he was sure, but Yami was not in the mood for teasing. He took Mokuba's lips in his own for just a moment, just a second to taste a little bit of what he was going to _make sure_ he had a piece of later, because this was _so fucking unfair_ and if this was Egypt Mokuba would owe Yami his body for the next quarter of a century. Mokuba kissed him again, hands roaming all over and it was a breath of fresh air. But the song had gone back down from its climax of sound to the gritty grind with which it had begun and Yami knew that the song was over—might as well be over.

Pulling away from him with his bangs covering his eyes in that way that made him seem even sexier somehow, Mokuba gave Yami a wicked smile. In about two more seconds Yami was just going to say screw it and take Mokuba right there on the sofa—

There was clapping from behind Mokuba, and Yami took a deep breath to suppress his surprise at the interruption. He had accounted for the fact that the two women had not come out of the bathroom earlier, but it was hard to keep such thoughts in mind when you had someone like Mokuba grinding down on your crotch.

It was Mokuba who hadn't been caught off guard by their presence this time, throwing his head back dramatically, hair settling on his back with the motion; he winked at them without saying another word, moving away from Yami's hips and sliding with more ease than he should have been able to off of the couch, reaching for Yami's hands to pull him up. Yami didn't know how he was expected to stand after that performance, but he obliged with a bit less difficulty than he had anticipated.

"Where did you learn that?" the brunette asked. "That was amazing!"

"You're being rude..." her friend warned. Yami didn't really care about the fact that they were there, but it was nice to know that they were considerate about their peeping tomfoolery.

Mokuba looked considerably better than before, actually; like he had sobered up quite a bit. He reached to the ground to pick up his clothes where he had dropped them. "Um...a few friends..." he said a bit awkwardly.

"Your boyfriend is really lucky."

Yami raised an eyebrow. "He's just some thing I've got on the side." The girls giggled and continued walking out of the hallway.

Mokuba laughed. "On the side, hm?"

"Put your damn shirt on," Yami said gruffly. He wasn't in the best of moods now, considering that he'd just been dickteased and left on the side himself; Mokuba was lucky that he hadn't said anything worse. "You're sober enough. Let's go."

"You should have had another drink," Mokuba said. "You're too uptight. I liked dancing for you."

"You should have had about six less drinks," Yami retorted. He began to head toward the exit.

"Hey, Yami," Mokuba said, and a hand found its way to Yami's shoulder, pulling him back.

Yami turned, waiting. He wasn't in the mood for this _shit_. Mokuba stepped closer, his hand shifting to tuck itself underneath Yami's chin. Unfortunately, his stupid Kaiba charm wasn't going to work on Yami at all. He wasn't going to let it work.

"Wanna fuck?"


	5. Don't Answer It

**Be Cool**

**Chapter Five**

The entire ride back was spent in silence. LaShonda purred like a kitten under Mokuba's guidance—even though he was still a bit tipsy—and Yami tried not to grasp the boy too tightly; he was still pretty angry over being teased in the club. He made sure to take the helmet when it was offered, as Mokuba had lost his hair band and the brown strands were whipping his face as they rode. He closed his eyes, taking care not to fall asleep on the ride back. He wasn't in the mood to talk very much and luckily Mokuba didn't bring up any topics of conversation. Yami figured he was too busy making sure that they weren't killed on the road. Good kid. When Mokuba wound the engine down to a stop and turned it off, Yami opened his eyes and swiftly let go of Mokuba, swinging his legs over the bike and removing the helmet.

They were at Mokuba's place.

Mokuba hopped off of the motorcycle as well, and he smiled that Kaiba smirk. "I assumed that your answer was yes."

Yami didn't find anything amusing; he just sighed, looking down at his feet and trying to reflect without words that he was not in a good mood about anything that was happening in that moment.

"Oh, don't be a bitch about it; I know that it was annoying, but didn't you have fun?"

Yami didn't answer, although indeed it had been a nice dance. "Got a light?" he requested as he removed a pack from his back pocket, sliding out a cig and holding it between in his fingers.

Mokuba frowned but reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a Zippo, completely silver with a Blue Eyes White Dragon decal. How predictably _Kaiba_ of him. "You smoke?"

"Rarely," was the reply, and Yami offered the pack to him. It was new minus the one he'd just taken out, and Mokuba very nimbly grabbed one of his own, being kind enough to light them both.

"That's what I tell people," he said, eyes brushing over Yami.

But the Pharaoh paid him no attention, looking around for a bit before moving to lean against a lamp post that stood only steps away. He took a long drag, letting the warmth settle in his chest a little before exhaling. It felt good. The two of them smoked in silence; he was glad that Mokuba hadn't tried to force a conversation—he felt much better in the midst of a lack of words. When he reached the filter Yami took his last puff and held it as he tossed the butt away, letting the heating sensation spread to his fingertips before sighing it out, regretting that it was indeed the last. Mokuba had already finished his and was watching him.

"Feel better?" the brunette asked.

"Yes." Yami took a deep breath before sighing again. He actually did feel quite a bit better, because cigs made everything better.

Mokuba took a step toward him. "Good." When Mokuba began to close the distance between them, Yami closed his eyes. He felt a small vibration on his back from the lamp post, and felt fingers gripping his chin. He wished he had another smoke already. Yami was being pinned against the post. He felt lips being faintly brushed against his.

"Yami..." Mokuba said, his voice a whisper.

"What?"

"You... are really hot."

"Then fuck me," he said simply.

Yami opened his right eye just in time to see Mokuba make a face. "Yami, you know I want to..."

"Then let's do it." He blinked, both eyes open now. "Fuck me." The hesitancy showed on Mokuba's face. Yami crossed his arms and smirked. "You scared or somethin'?"

"Of course not."

"Then what's the hold up? I'm not hiding anything. I've been wanting you for a while now."

"I know, and—"

"Then fuck me." Mokuba was quiet for a moment before pushing his lips to Yami's again. The Pharaoh's hands wrapped around Mokuba's waist, pulling him closer. Yami was relentless, pushing Mokuba's mouth open with his tongue and ravishing him, hands roughly groping Mokuba's ass as he did so. He didn't let Mokuba lead this kiss—he pulled away when _he_ wanted to, a hand moving up to pull on Mokuba's hair and keep him from backing away at the same time. When he _did_ pull away, they were both gasping for breath.

"I'm only going to say this one more time," Yami panted. "Let's. Fuck."

Mokuba was fumbling for his keys as they headed to the front door.

His earlier hesitation really bothered Yami, though he didn't show it. What had changed, besides him being upset at the club scene? He was thinking about this too much, and he shook his head to free himself of his thoughts.

They were up the stairs in no time, Mokuba pulling him into another kiss as they escorted each other across the den to the bedroom. The brunette was shedding his clothes along the way, and Yami did not mind at all helping him pull off that suit. Mokuba was being much more aggressive now and their violent dance across the room reached a stop as he shoved Yami against the door of his room, taking a moment to taste the flesh on his neck, sucking and licking—when he began biting, it was kind of hard, and Yami forcefully gasped; just the way he liked it.

Mokuba stepped back to yank Yami's own shirt over his head. He was already panting and his eyes had that hungry look in them that Yami had seen in the kitchen after the party. The brunette's arousal was pushing against his thigh, courtesy of those tight pants, and without thinking Yami immediately reached for the belt buckle. But it was then that Mokuba's attention on his neck was becoming painful—those were definitely going to be hickeys in the morning—and as much as Yami had tried to reign himself in he couldn't help the shiver that coursed through his body and the sigh that escaped after.

"You _would_ like that, wouldn't you?" Mokuba said venomously, taking his lips again. This time, Yami managed to push off from the door behind him, and Mokuba reached to open it. The door swung back and in they went, Mokuba shoving Yami onto the bed. Yami immediately began to undo the zipper on his own pants to get them off. He was more turned on by Mokuba's aggressiveness—not unlike what he'd seen in the kitchen—than anything else.

Mokuba stared at him from above, hands slowly removing his belt as he said, "I hope you know I'm topping, Yami," that smug smirk still on his face from earlier.

Yami laughed, still pulling himself out of his pants. "Oh no-no-no-no-no. You're not."

Suddenly he was staring at a naked Mokuba, who was playing in his own hair yet again. "Yes, I fucking am," he said with a note of finality, reaching down to finish removing Yami's pants and tossing them to the wayside.

The conversation paused for a moment, all arguments forgotten while they studied each other, and all the fantasies that Yami'd lived in his head up until now replayed themselves simultaneously. When he felt satisfied, he shifted to create more room on the bed for Mokuba, and he said, "No the hell you're not."

Mokuba obliged him by getting in next to him, wasting no time in rolling over to straddle Yami's hips, smirk still firmly in place. "Yes. I am," Mokuba said, fingering the sores that Yami could already feel on his neck. "You'll get your turn later. I've been waiting too long for this, Yami. I wanted to do you in my kitchen earlier. You're not taking this from me."

Yami raised his right eyebrow. "I'm not all that easy to tame." It wasn't as though he'd never bottomed before; before the night was over, regardless, he was going to make sure Mokuba kept his promise.

"We'll see about that." Mokuba said, hands pressing down on the insides of Yami's thighs, moving up to his chest and settling on his shoulders. Their lips met again, and the brunette took that opportunity to roam his hands all over, gently moving his hips to grind down on Yami's, like he had in the club—and that memory alone, really, was all that was necessary to make Yami completely hard. That lap dance had definitely been hot, and it seemed that he was finally being rewarded for his goddamned patience. Mokuba was gasping from his kisses already; Yami wasn't going to sit back just because he was bottom this time, and if he couldn't possess Mokuba's body right now Yami was going to take ownership of his lips.

Just as Mokuba pulled away, reaching for that nightstand—that—was—always—present—on—the—left, presumably for lube, they heard a phone ring. It was Mokuba's cell on the floor by the bed, ringing with a sound reminiscent of wind chimes. "Don't you dare answer that," Yami hissed.

"Wasn't planning on it," Mokuba said, and he continued as though there hadn't been an interruption at all. His hands were back on Yami, his right fingers coated in whatever was in the top drawer of the nightstand—it was cold, much to Yami's surprise, when Mokuba's fingers brushed his arm on the way down—but that's all he felt before Mokuba's lips were on his neck again. It was a terrible idea, letting him do that. Yami liked to be bitten hard; it turned him on more than anything else in the world, but he'd have hickeys in the morning he knew. And Gramps would see them, and Yuugi would see them—"Shit, Yami, you're a violent bastard," Mokuba commented before taking another bite out of Yami, this time below the shoulder where no one would see. He ground the skin between his teeth and Yami couldn't help his moan as he felt the stinging heat of pain down his spine—which triggered a jolt of pleasure. He was heaving breaths now, relishing the feeling of trickling blood across his chest.

"If it doesn't hurt," he quipped back, "you're not doing it hard enough." Mokuba's wicked grin was enough to let him know that he would be obliged. The brunette began to lick the wound he'd just made, purring as he did so. It was at that moment that slickened fingers entered Yami, and he jumped; he hadn't expected—

The phone rang again, Mokuba's stupid chimes. "Fuck!" Mokuba swore, and he made to move; but Yami knew it would result in the loss of Mokuba's fingers and he wasn't having that. Desperately grasping Mokuba's hair, he pulled down hard, and Mokuba's head jerked in his direction.

"None of that," Yami ordered. "Ignore it."

Mokuba seemed to think about it for a moment before he said, "Okay," and kissed Yami instead. The slighter man was moving his hips as the fingers inside of him plunged in and out, trying to enjoy his current situation as much as he could. No silly cell phone was going to ruin this. He relaxed his body, spreading his legs a bit wider as he continued to kiss Mokuba, left hand still entangled in long brown strands of hair. Everything about Mokuba seemed to become sexier the more he paid attention to them, all the things that initially made Mokuba attractive: The long hair, the lithe, flexible form, that incredible ass—he asked himself why he hadn't just raped him in the kitchen.

"More," he rasped into Mokuba's ear, his hips pounding against the brunette's fingers hard enough to make what he was talking about obvious. A few more seconds and there was the sweet sensation of being filled to the brim—

And then the ring again. It had barely registered as existing in Yami's mind, his eyes closing to focus on Mokuba and their movements. Only when Mokuba had pulled out of him to reach toward the phone on the floor did he notice, and he glared at Mokuba with utter disdain. "It's Seto, Yami," Mokuba said, sounding a bit annoyed himself—he'd better be—"He'll keep calling until I pick up."

"Give me the phone," Yami said, "I'll fucking tell him—"

"No you won't. Be quiet."

Yami gave him an incredulous look, eyes widening. "I _know_ you're not seriously going to—"

"Shut the fuck up," Mokuba said, and Yami's back arched as the feeling of being filled overtook his body again. His hands reached back to grip the edge of the mattress behind him. Mokuba's voice had that sharp cruelty to it that could keep him subdued—the brunette wasn't about to take his shit (Yami could dish out his fair share of it), and that was fucking hot. He was less than thrilled about the idea of Mokuba being on the phone, but he supposed that as long as there was a dick in him and he was being fucked it didn't matter. "I'm going to answer this," Mokuba said, "and you're going to be a good little bastard and be quiet. Are we clear?"

Yami refused to answer that with an audible statement. Mokuba's hips were slowly grinding against his own, and he could see that the brunette was very clearly biting his lip. One hand was holding the phone—which just stopped ringing—and the other was harshly running nails over Yami's chest. It was indeed enough for the moment, the heat from between his legs spreading to his body from the friction alone.

Like clockwork, the phone rang again, and Mokuba answered it on the first ring. "What the hell do you want?" he said rudely, winking at Yami and gripping his stomach as he pulled himself out slowly before thrusting in twice as quickly. Yami held back a whimper and thought, for just a moment, about staying himself until Mokuba got off of the phone, but just as quickly as that mercy had been conjured it fled from his mind. He wrapped his legs around Mokuba's waist instead, pulling him in deeper. Mokuba gasped but a grin soon replaced the expression, and his strokes began to come a bit faster. "I know what time it is," he was saying on the phone, and his hips slowed again to that grind, much to Yami's disappointment. There was a pause, and Mokuba continued. "I'm busy now. I don't have time to listen to you." He stared meaningfully down at Yami, and for a moment it looked like he was going to hang up and Yami would finally get what he wanted...until he heard Seto raise his voice on the other end. Yami saw Mokuba's face contort in anger and his movements stopped completely—and Yami took advantage of it. He moaned, deeply, hand reaching down to stroke himself in an attempt to distract Mokuba from the phone. "No, I don't have five minutes," he answered, eyes straying to Yami's own arousal. "I'm in the middle of something important; bye," he said, pushing into Yami with more force than before. He dropped the phone, leaning down to Yami's ear. "You fucking slut," he said. They were both covered in a bit of sweat, and Mokuba's hands—now free of the phone—gripped Yami's hips, moving now at a steady beat, using the leverage to make each instance of contact more intense. _This_ was what Yami wanted, and his back arched again involuntarily, eyes rolling back. He was panting, too ravished by all of the sensations he was experience to do anything but focus on Mokuba's body, the clenching and unclenching of muscle as their hips met a few more times.

 _"Mokuba! What the hell are you doing?"_ The phone. Again. Yami could feel his blood pressure going up. "Fucking take—care of that already!" he managed to half—shout.

Mokuba snatched up the phone from the bed sheets beside them. "Look, Seto, I'm fucking right now and I'll call you later," he said, trying to keep his voice even, and Yami saw him physically press the "end call" button before throwing the phone haphazardly behind him, apparently not caring where it fell. "Oh _god_ , Yami," he professed right after, apparently having held back his moan.

Yami was getting there, slowly but surely. "...harder," he breathed. "Scratch me, hit me; fuck me up..." Mokuba's nails were on his flesh again, taking out all of his frustration on the man beneath him, and Yami began to tremble again. Mokuba was almost there, almost in that spot that would render Yami senseless—but not quite. The brunette knelt down soon after, hips shifting to another angle as he began to bite along Yami's lower stomach, but it just wasn't enough. "Deeper," Yami moaned as he arched, body writhing. He was so _close_ and if Mokuba would just get his shit together... "Put my..." he panted, "put my legs on your shoulders." Mokuba removed himself from Yami's insides to shift into the new position, and Yami couldn't help the regretful sigh that fell through his lips. "Oh fuck," he breathed, unsure and uncaring of if Mokuba could hear him. They were both covered in sweat, and Mokuba ran his fingers through his hair, shaking it out—a sight that turned Yami on a bit more (although he was sure by now that anything could turn him on at the moment)—before moving.

"Shit, Yami...are you okay?" Mokuba asked, staring at Yami's chest, his neck; though it was dark, it must have been obvious that it was covered in wounds, all clearly a bit worse than Mokuba had meant them to be—to Yami, they were perfect. He was sure he was bleeding in at least three places. It all felt so fucking good.

"I'll be better when you're back inside of me. Hurry up," Yami whined impatiently.

But Mokuba's eyes didn't move away from the reddening injuries on the other's chest. "Seriously, Yami—"

"I'm fucking great, gorgeous. Just hurry up." Yami was feeling a bit lightheaded now. His hair was sweaty and its composition was completely haggard. He brushed strands of blond, crimson and black hair from his eyes so that he could get a better look at Mokuba. The brunette was definitely worried about him, but Yami was more concerned with his elated sense of bliss fading away.

It appeared to be with a renewed sense of passion that Mokuba moved himself in place and once again sheathed himself inside of Yami. The blond was glad that his advice had been taken; oh—things felt so much better, deeper, intense. Even Mokuba noticed the difference, and a whimper escaped from his lips even though they'd only been at it again just a few seconds. Mokuba was near upright on the bed, and while those lips weren't his to kiss at the moment the exchange was good enough to keep Yami at bay. Their fucking settled into a primal beat, not unlike the music that Mokuba had danced to earlier and the memories flooded back full force. Yami could feel himself tightening around Mokuba's erection, each stroke electrifying and it took everything in him to hold himself back from coming. "Haa...haa...haa..." Mokuba panted, eyes closing and biting his bottom lip, stomach muscles contracting with every thrust—he was holding himself back, too, and knowing that his body had brought Mokuba so close made Yami tremble with pride—hands reaching for and digging themselves into the blond's thighs.

Yami writhed as the nails burrowed themselves into his flesh, and it was then that Mokuba hit that sweet spot inside of him. Fu—uck. Yami's back arched farther up than he thought it could go, his heartbeat skyrocketing. Mokuba quickly brought a hand down to his chest, pushing him back down. "Y— _yes_..." Mokuba moaned from up top.

The brunette's eyes were open again, that insolent smirk back in place from before. "Right there?" his voice sunk down to a sultry whisper, hips moving with each syllable. He jerked back, driving his hips into Yami hard, and the slighter man arched again, gripping sheets, the mattress, the headboard—anything that he could get his hands on. "...right _there_?" Mokuba's voice purred in time with a particularly hard thrust, one hand on Yami's stomach and the other one finding its way to Yami's own erection, pumping.

"...oh, god...yes, yes... _yes_ ," Yami chanted, not having been fucked this well in a while. Mokuba's smirk grew wider the more Yami spoke, and although he wanted to do something to wipe the look off of his face he was too busy being pinned to the mattress to think up anything. Mokuba grunted, expression faltering as Yami watched his eyes roll back faintly, and the brunette pressed close to his chest, pushing Yami's knees to the sides of his body; Mokuba's pace was quickening. " _Oh, fuck!_ " Yami managed to keep at a hiss as he came, Mokuba's fingers catching the sticky proof of his pleasure; the brunette was still thrusting into him.

"You feel so good," Mokuba professed seconds later, but as he came he grasped the skin underneath Yami's belly button between his teeth, stifling his groan and biting down. Now Yami's hands were in Mokuba's hair as the brunette rode out his orgasm, the blond trying to keep his own body steady; Mokuba didn't know what the pain did to him, driving shivers and shudders up and down his spine. Just knowing that he'd have another scar on his body aroused him a bit more than it should have, and Yami choked back yet another moan. He was panting for breath, his cock aching for more despite the fact that they'd just finished. Mokuba was breathing hard, too, and he crawled his way up to the top of the bed, throwing himself on the mattress face up, chest heaving up and down, eyes periodically darting over in Yami's direction. He wiped his sullied hand on the sheet between them, throwing his arm over his head soon after. There were more than a few moments of silence between them, and Yami took the opportunity to feel on the new scars he had for display. Now that he'd taken the chance to look around, he could see that the only light in the room was from outside and that wasn't much—there was only the glow of streetlamps and they didn't penetrate the room at all. He could feel a light trickle of blood on his fingers but he couldn't see it. He absentmindedly licked the blood from his hand, sighing as he still struggled for breath, "...I need a cigarette."

Mokuba couldn't laugh just yet, but his breathy giggle alluded to what it was supposed to be. "You're pretty loud, Yami. Jesus," he ran hands through his hair, playing with a particularly long strand. A little later, he added, "...did you want one?"

"Not now," Yami said, taking a deep breath. "...and yes, I'm loud. So what?"

"...you're pretty fucked up, Yami." Mokuba turned over onto his side looking at him directly. His chest was still heaving, but not as much. They were both settling down a bit. "You _like_ being fucked up."

Yami had long since been subjected to this line of questioning and commentary and it rolled from his shoulders with relative ease. "You did a decent job for a first—timer. You...should be rougher next time."

"Fucking hell, Yami!" Mokuba was actually surprised. "What the hell else could I do?"

"Invest in a whip," Yami said casually, "or you could improvise. I don't mind being beaten around a bit."

"Clearly."

Yami put both hands behind his head, stretching out. Mokuba slid a bit closer until the two of them were touching, and it was Yami's turn to laugh. "Don't tell me you're a _cuddler_ , Mokuba."

But he was honest. "'S not so bad," Mokuba confessed. "Better than not feeling a connection to the person you're sleeping with. Besides, I just fucked your brains out. You'll give me anything I ask for."

"You must be kidding."

"Look me in the eye and tell me I can't cuddle with you."

"Ugh. Do you have to call it that?"

"You did."

"...piece of shit."

"Piece of shit cuddler," Mokuba retorted, but Yami didn't say anything as the brunette moved to rest his head on Yami's chest.

Yami could feel the fatigue setting in his bones as Mokuba settled against him. "...thought I was going to have a turn."

"Shut up," Mokuba said sleepily, "you enjoyed it."

"I'm going to rape you while you're sleeping."

"I look forward to it." Mokuba sounded more and more drowsy every time he said something.

Yami sighed. He wasn't going to do anything else tonight—that much was certain. Mokuba had been pretty drunk earlier, though; he supposed that the kid deserved a break. He _wasn't_ going to let him get away with it, though. To be truthful, he'd been sated pretty well, actually; quite well, but he wasn't going to tell Mokuba that. He could always use an extra fuck.

"Hey, Mokuba," he called.

"Mmhmm," the brunette answered lazily.

"You told your brother we were fucking." It was a statement, not a question.

"...I did."

{FIN chapter}


	6. Twice

**Be Cool**

**Chapter Six:**

Yami awoke in the harsh daylight, the room painfully bright despite the fact that there was only a single window. Immediately his limbs tingled—his arms were still behind his head, Mokuba sleeping on the right side of his chest. It figured that the runt would still be asleep. He could see the mound of bushy, black hair rising and falling with each breath. Mokuba was drooling a bit onto his chest and Yami shifted a bit, testing his ability to move without waking the other man. He managed to move a few inches without problem, and sighed, flexing his arms to try to get that blood flowing. His legs weren't quite asleep, but they did feel kind of awkward. He wasn't used to sleeping in that position at all.

With a sigh he realized that Mokuba was attractive even when he was sleeping, the shape of his lithe body reminding him of the night before. It didn't take much more than that to get Yami aroused—it was first thing in the morning, after all—and without thinking he reached beneath the comforter to touch himself. Perhaps he should rape the little bastard while he was asleep, he thought. It was no good having thoughts like that, though. He was sure that Mokuba would be awake soon, anyway. He managed to shake off the brunette atop him, Mokuba clutching a pillow and turning over. Yeah, he would be awake soon, but Yami wasn't one to beg or ask. He made for the door, pausing to glance back at Mokuba for a bit of inspiration.

Ten minutes later, when Mokuba did indeed get up, as Yami had predicted, he was in for quite a sight. Yami was seated on one of the leather covered stools that stood at the island in the kitchen. Yami's back was to it, legs spread wide, panting just a little as he pumped himself in quick motions with his hand. Mokuba looked stupefied for a moment; the brunette, Yami vaguely noticed, was wearing a black, fluffy robe which was now hanging open to reveal that he was completely naked underneath. Yami decided to play it up, moaning softly, his hips jerking into his own hands, back arching slightly. Seeing Mokuba there only gave him more fuel for the fire, anyway. His eyes rolled back, and Yami spread his legs a bit wider and leaned back against the countertop on the island.

Mokuba seemed to have regained his bearings. "Really, Yami? You're in my kitchen," he said cynically. Yami kept his eyes on the younger Kaiba, hips pushing the stool forward to allow him an angle to lean further back, almost until his head was on the counter. Mokuba rolled his eyes. "I didn't let you fuck me last night, so now you resort to this? You big baby." He took a couple steps toward Yami, poising his elbow on the refrigerator to his left. "Poor, starved puppy," Mokuba mocked, his eyes moving to settle on Yami's chest, his scars and scratches painfully obvious in the light of day. Yami didn't think that they were so bad—he had asked for them, after all. "...wounded puppy," Mokuba added, his tone changing. Yami ignored him, continuing his actions—precum was dripping from him already, falling on his fingers. He couldn't care less for Mokuba's judgment calls. He was going to get himself off one way or another. If he made Mokuba angry, that was just a plus. "You could have woken me up, you know," Mokuba said, shedding his robe and taking a few more steps. Yami still said nothing, swearing and cursing under his breath. It wasn't until Mokuba was close enough to grab Yami's wrists—both of them—that the panting blond looked him in the eye with a worn but pleasured expression, and acknowledged his presence. "Now that I've gotten your attention," Mokuba said, bringing his voice down to a whisper, "How do you want to do this?" Despite being aware, Yami's mind was a bit hazy, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that Mokuba had given in. The brunette absently twirled a crimson strand of Yami's hair in his fingers. "Think I like your hair down," he said quietly, almost to himself. He pressed his lips to Yami's cheek, and... was that a blush that Yami spied on his face?

"You're a romantic," Yami said. "I hate romantics."

"That's because you like things so rough," the younger retorted, his voice still using that soft tone. His hands both pressed on Yami's chest, tracing over the various scratches—especially the bite mark by his collarbone. "I've never done something this bad to a person before," he admitted. He looked Yami in the eye. "You can't treat me like that, Yami."

"...noted," Yami answered, beginning to catch his breath.

"There's nothing wrong with being a romantic," Mokuba declared, still staring at Yami's eyes. The Pharaoh felt a hand grasping his erection, squeezing a bit here and there; a thumb flicked over the head and Yami's hips twitched.

"So what am I supposed to do? Kiss you and call you beautiful?"

"No. I already know I'm gorgeous, thank you. You said so last night. Besides, I said I was a romantic, not a fucking pussy. Just don't kill me. Simple, right?"

"Just because I like pain doesn't mean I assume everyone else does," Yami quipped, sighing happily at Mokuba's continued touching.

Mokuba shrugged. "Well, Yami, you're an asshole. I have to make sure."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really." Yami couldn't argue with that in all honesty, so he said nothing. "But I like assholes. I'm an asshole. That's why we get along so well."

"An asshole who's a romantic?"

"Yep. What are you going to do about it?"

* * *

"Fuck, Yami! Didn't I tell you not to fucking kill me?" Mokuba, his voice edged with discontent. Right after that, however, he moaned loudly. "Oh, shit..." He was half sitting on the stool, but mostly on Yami's lap, legs spread open and over the countertop as Yami took him. The metal stood scraped against the floor with each thrust but neither paid it any mind. The position had been Yami's idea, although he'd thought of it spur of the moment—seen it in a few places and wanted to try it out. It had been awkward at first—Mokuba hadn't been comfortable just on the edge of the stool with Yami standing—but now it was much better. Mokuba's backside was almost touching his hips, and Yami had to try hard not to spasm just going in; he was just so fucking deep it was ridiculous. Yami was pulling on Mokuba's hair now, the brunette's back solidly against his chest. Yami was kissing up Mokuba's jaw line, trying to be as romantic as he could allow himself to be. Mokuba was whimpering and shivering now, completely unlike the night before. He was _such a bottom_ , and Yami smiled wickedly at the thought. Mokuba gripped at the countertop with both hands, pushing his hips back on Yami as best as he could and the scraping of metal on ceramic tiles became the backdrop for their intercourse. Yami grunted, trying his best not to be too loud; he wanted to focus on keeping Mokuba's weight on his hips. The brunette's ass was pulling him in, he'd swear to it under oath. He couldn't help panting and their cacophony of whispers echoed around them like the hissing of a crowd. Mokuba's head snapped back suddenly, bucking harder than before. "There..." his voice had an edge to it. "There...oh yes..." Yami saw him gripping the counter harder; his fingers had been slipping, and the brunette's hips began moving frantically now that Yami was in the right spot.

Yami's kisses made their way up to Mokuba's ear, where he couldn't resist nipping a bit roughly with his teeth before whispering, "I love it when you can't control yourself..." licking and sucking on the lobe, his chest heaved, muscles tightening; he couldn't hold himself in much longer. Pushing his hips up as far as they could go, Yami moaned loudly.

Mokuba's back arched, his head and eyes both rolling back. "You're gonna fucking kill me," Mokuba whimpered, voice fragile. "You're gonna—fuck—you can't..." and from then on his cries were unintelligible.

"Shit-shit-shit," Yami hissed, hands reaching around Mokuba's waist and wrapping them around the brunette's erection just as he came, hands catching the sticky solution. "Oh shit," Yami said again and he orgasmed himself from the tightness alone, teeth clenched. His knees shook, and it took every ounce of adrenaline in him hold up the body above him; Mokuba had fallen limp and the stool only offset a small amount of the weight. "Oh god," Yami moaned as a final shudder coursed through him unexpectedly, and he grunted at his own physical exhaustion. "Fuck." He could feel Mokuba quivering against him with every breath he took. Yami pulled the brunette's legs from the counter so that he was in a sitting position. Mokuba moaned softly as he was being moved, and all but collapsed onto the counter, arms outstretched in front of him. After letting him sit like that for a moment, Yami nudged him. "Come on," he said, reaching down to the grab Mokuba's previously abandoned robe.

"...the kitchen," Mokuba breathed.

"We'll clean it later," Yami said. He was going to faint if he didn't get to a bed soon; he was quite lightheaded already. He wearily made his way to the sink, trying to clean his hand a bit with some water.

That bed, when they reached it, was the most comfortable thing that Yami had ever slept in at any point of his life. "Fuck," Mokuba groaned into his pillow, after some time spent resting. "...I was—there was shit I was supposed to be doing today."

Yami knew the feeling. "What time is it?"

"I dunno. Where's my phone?"

"You threw it last night," Yami recalled. "You said you had cigarettes?"

"Pants...pocket. They're on the floor somewhere. Matches are on the side table; the ashtray, too."

"Thanks."

"My phone while you're up," Mokuba added. Yami mustered the strength to retrieve Mokuba's phone—he'd thrown it into the closet across the room—and felt even better about things when there was that sweet nicotine in his lungs. "Shit," he remembered suddenly, "Yuugi's gotta be wondering where I am."

"Would he call?" Mokuba asked, turning to face Yami rather than lay face down.

"Maybe," Yami answered, slipping the bed again to get his own phone. "My phone's on vibrate—"

"Shit," Mokuba cut him off. "The battery died. I wonder how many times nii-sama fucking called."

Yami chuckled, exhaling smoke. "Guess."

"More than ten—fifteen, probably." The room fell back into silence while Yami checked his own phone and Mokuba waited for his to turn on. The brunette was toying with his own hair again, and Yami watched lazily while glancing intermittently at his own. No calls.

"'S ten-thirty," Yami mumbled.

"Liar." Mokuba looked surprised. "Damn, it's earlier than I thought."

"Lotta shit to do?" A silence followed after that question, and Yami caught Mokuba's eyes as they both turned to look at each other. Mokuba stared at Yami long enough for the partial blond to quizzically raise his eyebrows.

"Uh...yeah," Mokuba answered a bit awkwardly, as though he'd been caught off guard. "Meeting with Seto at one. I'll be free whenever that's over. His seminars are like five hours, I swear. I have a few errands to run after that, but they can wait. Just shopping." Yami said nothing, having a few hours before needing to show up at the shop himself. Mokuba's eyes suddenly turned to the size of dinner plates. "Seventeen missed calls," he said, "and six text messages." His fingers moved deftly, and Yami assumed that he was scrolling through them. "Yeah, he's pretty pissed. I think he might be coming over."

Yam couldn't help laughing at that notion. "Why is he always riding your ass?" He ground out the cigarette and put it in the ashtray to his left, even though he hadn't finished it.

"I'm his brother. He wants to keep my head on straight."

"Up your ass, maybe."

"Yep." Mokuba agreed. "I'm calling him before he has a heart attack. His last call was twenty minutes ago."

"Be sure to tell him you were fucking," Yami suggested with another laugh.

"Hush," Mokuba said softly, and Yami could hear the line ringing. The brunette held the phone out in front of him. At first, Yami thought it was on speaker phone, until—

"Mokuba what the hell is wrong with you? I've been sitting out here for a half-hour!" Yami reached over to the side table and re-lit his cig. Mokuba sighed, saying nothing but silently motioning for Yami to hand him the cigarette. " _Mokuba!_ " Seto's voice was as assholish as ever.

Mokuba inhaled so deeply on the cigarette that Yami thought he was going to choke. He took his time blowing it out before handing it back to Yami. It was pretty much gone, and the blond ground it before fishing out a new one. "Yes, Seto?" Mokuba answered finally.

"What the hell happened?" Yami could clearly hear Seto, even without the speakerphone. "Let me in! I'm waiting."

"I'm meeting with you at one, Seto," Mokuba began to massage his temples. Yami offered him the new cig, but Mokuba shook his head. "I'm not on call for KaibaCorp; I work when I'm supposed to be working. I have a private life, nii-sama."

"Just let me in so we can talk in person. You know I hate talking over the phone."

"No," Mokuba said, stretching. "I'm indecent and I have company. That's about as polite as its going to get. I'm going, Seto. See you at one. "Mokuba hung up and sighed.

Yami hazarded a guess. "He doesn't know, does he?"

Mokuba knew what he meant. "Oh, he knows; doesn't like it though. But he hates most of what I do. Too liberal."

"That's bullshit."

"Who are you telling? Come on," Mokuba said, getting out of bed. "I'll take you home. You deserve it for being such a good fuck." Mokuba winked, hair brushing over his eyes, and while it was stereotypical Yami thought that it was pretty attractive.

"Alright," Yami said with a smirk.

"Shower?" Mokuba suggested.

"Yes."

They ended up having sex in the shower, too, something that Yami hadn't planned on but he wasn't about to turn down, especially not after their last two encounters. The brunette's tender kisses had actually managed to rouse him somewhat, and Mokuba's hair was slicker in the shower than ever and Yami made sure he pulled on it as hard as Mokuba would allow. Jesus, he loved Mokuba's hair. It would be the end of him. It was refreshing, fucking under the cool water, and neither felt sleepy after. It was eleven-thirty when they finally got dressed and out of the house, because Yami had to style his hair and Mokuba had to sanitize the kitchen.

"Fuck," Mokuba said as they were heading to the front door.

"Forget something?" Yami guessed. He wanted another cigarette, all of a sudden, and he fished out one from his back pocket.

"Rarely, huh?" Mokuba replied, and then added, "Seto's fucking staked outside of my house."

Yami said nothing about the smoking, but he did laugh. "Get your ass out there and tell him to get the fuck off your legal property before you beat the living shit out of him." From another pocket Yami removed a box of matches, which he held up to Mokuba. "I lifted these; just wanted you to know."

Mokuba waved the confession away. "Whatever."

Yami's expression became serious. "Look, Mokuba, you're a dick to me, and you're a dick to other people. I don't see how that shit doesn't extend to your brother. You walk on eggshells around him," he declared, taking a drag. When he'd finished, he continued, "like a little bitch." He caught Mokuba's eye. "I don't like bitches. At all. That shit's not attractive." He held Mokuba's gaze for a few moments until the younger boy looked away, and when he did so he went ahead and opened the door. Yami sighed, using the cigarette to calm himself—his annoyance, mostly—as he followed Mokuba down the steps to LaShonda. He was beginning to like the name, actually. Kaiba, to Mokuba's credit, was indeed watching. His limo was there, all emblazoned with the KaibaCorp Emblem, right in front of Mokuba's bike. Kaiba was such a bitch. The man immediately removed himself from the limo when he saw Mokuba take the cig from Yami's hands. There was about three-quarters of it left; more than enough for this situation, Yami thought.

"Thank you," Mokuba, taking a deep breath. The silence, of course, lasted only a moment. Seto Kaiba looked like he was going to shit bricks. Yami wanted to smile or laugh, but this situation would have only gotten worse. He would have ended up punching Kaiba in the fucking throat.

"So you're a smoker now, Mokuba?" Kaiba said once he got his bearings.

"Rarely," was Mokuba's reply, "but yes." There was still a bit left before the filter before he ground it out on the lamp post, and he went that entire time without saying a word to Kaiba.

"And you," Kaiba said as Yami hopped on LaShonda, slipping into the same comfortable position he had been in yesterday. " _You're_ my brother's 'company'?"

Mokuba was tying up his hair, as he'd left his helmet in the house. "Don't speak to people who don't concern you, Seto," he said. "None of your business."

"Hey," Yami said, at the same time that Mokuba finished, looking Kaiba directly in the eyes. "Fuck you." The partial blond clenched his fists, ready to jump off of Mokuba's bike at a moment's notice. He wasn't in the mood for this childish shit.

"Indeed," Kaiba spat, his disapproving gaze shifting back to Mokuba. "You realize we're going to have a talk about this."

"No, we're not," Mokuba said approaching his bike and swinging his right leg over it. "Seto, don't ever stalk my house like this again; its embarrassing. There's another family that lives here, you know." He started the engine and LaShonda purred smoothly. Yami wanted to tell Kaiba so badly, "I fucked your brother and it was fucking great," but it seemed like it wasn't meant to be. No opportunity. So he smiled in Kaiba's direction instead as they pulled off.

The ride was too windy for either of them to say anything about the encounter, and Yami didn't think he wanted to. Mokuba _did_ have to go see his brother at some point, and he doubted that Kaiba was going to keep everything on a business-related tone. It was maybe two minutes to noon when the two of them walked into a store. Yuugi was already sitting at the front counter, so Yami guessed that Gramps was either not feeling well, taking a nap, or both. "Hey Yami!" Yuugi exclaimed, excited as usual. It made Yami smile as he returned his hikari's greeting. "And Mokuba," he continued, leaving the counter to hug both of them. "Rough night yesterday, huh? I figured Yami was going to drag you to a club or something—it's happened to me more than once. Yami, you smell like smoke. What did I tell you about that?"

"Didn't have a change of clothes," Yami said.

"Gramps was worried about you."

"I know. He's always worried."

"So, are you going anywhere today?"

"Not really."

"Good. Anzu and Jou wanna come over..."

"Sounds good. Honda?"

"I'm not sure, Yami; he might be working." It was good to be at home again, falling back into standard routine. He hadn't had much time to speak to Yuugi at all the past two days—it would have to be something that he sat down to do very soon. The boy had no idea about anything that had happened.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Mokuba's voice wafted through, "but I have to go...gotta go to that meeting with Seto. Ah...Yami..."

"Thanks for the ride," the partial blond said, turning his back to Yuugi and grinning a bit too much for that particular joke.

Mokuba smirked. "Ass. It was nothing. See you around." He turned to leave, a hand in his bushy hair, twirling a strand as usual. Yami found himself unabashedly staring at the brunette's backside until the door closed behind him, and then some.

"You know," Yuugi said, and Yami tried not to jump—he'd forgotten about his hikari completely and he did his best not to show it. "...Mokuba's kind of hot," he finished, an embarrassed blush tinting his cheeks. "What do you think?" I...kind of like how those jeans fit..." his face was blazing red now, and his voice had faded to nothing as he made his way back behind the counter.

"Oh, I agree," Yami said, stretching a bit as he prepared to go upstairs to his room. "I hit that. Twice."

{FIN}


End file.
